"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. How may we assist you today?"

Severus scowled at the irritatingly chipper witch at the reception desk. Fortunately, Minerva was there to be polite. "We have a meeting with the Minister for Magic." She told the receptionist primly.

The fake smile slipped from the witch's heavily made-up face. It wasn't every day that people asked to see Minister Shacklebolt at the front desk.

"Oh, er, well, um, do you have an appointment?"

"Yes." Minerva said with rapidly diminishing patience. "As I said, we have a meeting with the Minister. I wonder if you would be so kind as to see us through?"

"Oh! Er, yes, well, I think, I mean, do come this way." Fake smile back in place, the blonde witch tottered out from behind the desk and led them across the atrium towards the lifts.

Severus did not enjoy being here. His presence attracted many stares, some mildly suspicious and others outright distrustful. He may have been cleared of all charges by the Ministry just a few months previously, but he still had very few friends here, especially in the Auror Department. Still, he had insisted that he accompany Minerva to the Ministry, intent on being privy to any discussions surrounding the boy-hero.

The doors of the lift pinged open on level one and they followed the receptionist to another desk situated outside a door regally labelled with a gold plaque reading 'Kingsley Shacklebolt: Minister for Magic.'

The receptionist, now clearly quite pleased to be delivering these evidently important visitors, spoke to the Junior Assistant to the Minister for Magic. "I have people to see Minister Shacklebolt."

The wizard behind the desk peered around the witch and examined the Hogwarts professors from above his spectacles. He looked down and checked his papers before nodding formally. "The Minister will see you now. Please go in."

"Minerva," Kingsley greeted as they entered. "And Severus!" He added with some surprise. "Come in, come in. Do take a seat."

Kingsley's office was large and grand, with a wide, glass desk near the window and a comfortable seating area opposite. The Minister gestured then towards the sofa and seated himself in the adjacent armchair. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure? Good news, I hope?"

The professors shared a mutual look of bitterness that the Minister quickly interpreted. "Not good news, then?" He concluded.

"I'm afraid not, Minister." Minerva confirmed. "Though no-one is in peril currently." She looked at Severus who saw a sadness in her eyes that he'd rarely seen before. "Severus, perhaps you would?"

He nodded, hardening his own heart, or what was left of it. "You are aware, I would imagine, of my responsibility over our returning 8th year students." Severus began contextually.

Kingsley nodded.

"I have, in the course of these duties, had reason to enquire into the particulars of Potter's home life before the war."

"With his muggle relatives? I recall when we picked him up from there a few years back." Kingsley commented. "He didn't seem particularly close to them."

"That was always my understanding as well." Severus agreed. "Though it does appear that he was, in fact, rather mistreated there; abused even."

"Has Harry confirmed this?"

"He has admitted enough. Though he does not believe the treatment he received amounts to abuse."

"What sort of thing are we talking about here?"

"He was neglected, treated as an outcast within his own family. They were emotionally cruel, denying him new clothes and belongings as well as affection. His aunt and uncle allowed, encouraged even, their son to bully Harry." Severus ground his teeth together. "They locked him in a cupboard."

It was not in the Minister's nature to overreact in any form of emotion. He was known for being steady and calm in his decision making. He was inherently cool. For a moment though, a deep and fearsome anger filled him, blazing only in the look of his eye. He would not admonish himself for feeling this way, for allowing the fury to consume him. No-one who knew Harry could react differently. All child-abuse was horrific, outrageous, unforgivable, but to harm someone who had saved so many, who fought for justice and love and good, was a particularly heinous crime.

"Harry is safe from them now, I assume?"

"He has separated himself from them entirely, I believe." Severus assured. "He lives in the old Black Residence now."

Kingsley nodded thoughtfully. "And I trust you intend to do something about the perpetrators? If you are looking for my blessing, Severus, you have it."

Severus gave Minerva a meaningful look.

"Absolutely not." The headmistress said decidedly. "Kingsley, I had hoped you would be a more rational influence. Severus is not going to do anything illegal. You may be willing to turn a blind eye to any unsavory actions, but there is many an Auror in this building who would be only too happy to see Severus in Azkaban. He will not be giving them that opportunity."

"You are right, of course." Kingsley conceded. "So what can I do to help?"

"We wish to know what legal options Harry has to bring his relatives to justice, considering they are muggles and how we could do this while ensuring Harry's privacy."

"Hmm," Kingsley nodded thoughtfully. "There are certainly routes he could take if he wishes to prosecute. When a defendant is muggle they would usually be tried in the muggle courts, but there are instances when the muggle would be tried under the Wizarding legal system and then passed back over to the muggle authorities for incarceration. Since these muggles are aware of wizards, that is an option but there are a number of legal and political hoops to jump through regardless." The Minister explained. "Your biggest problem is maintaining Potter's confidentiality. Cases against muggles are rare. That in itself would be enough to attract attention. Plus the number of people who would need to be involved just to make these kinds of arrangements with the muggles would be huge."

"This does not sound particularly promising." Severus groused dejectedly.

"Let me make some inquiries." Kingsley offered sympathetically. "I'll ask some colleagues in Justice and get back to you with a possible course of action."

"Thank you, Kingsley." Said Minerva, graciously.

Severus nodded somewhat less graciously. He couldn't help thinking that justice could be done a lot quicker and far better if he just handled things himself.

As the pair of professors left the Ministry, Minerva eyed her deputy closely. "I'm holding you to your word, Severus. If you act on this yourself, I shall make it my personal business to ensure that you regret it." The Scottish witch threatened calmly. Then, as they neared the apparition point, she placed a gentle hand on his arm, causing him to pause and look at her. "You are not the only one who is angry. I have no intention of letting those bastard muggles go unpunished. Potter was in my house, in my class and under my care for six years. You are not the only one who is angry."

Uneven stone poked uncomfortably into his back, cold and unyielding. He struggled against the bonds which restrained him, panicked and fearful eyes searching for some hope of rescue. A simpering form came before him and Harry recoiled in disgust. "Harry Potter…" The familiar cold, high voice drew his attention and out of the darkness of the night, red eyes and snake-like features appeared before him. "You're weak, Harry…pathetic…Crucio!"

A fire lit beneath his skin, burning each nerve until there was not a part of his body that wasn't in excruciating pain; until he wished for death. His limbs convulsed within the restraints and then his vision blurred and the scene around him changed. And now the restraints that held him were not cold and unmoving, but warm and soft. Remus' arms held him back as he watched Sirius fall back through the veil. He heard screaming and shouting and the pain from this moment was worse than the torture curse he suffered before. Again, things changed but the screaming continued. The skin of the old woman shifting, distorting, sagging off in limp folds as the snake emerged from within. It lunged once, twice, jaws stretched wide. Instinct took over as he ducked and dived. The creature struck again and he braced for the impact until a clammy hand grasped his and the pull of apparition yanked him away.

The hand had gone and he was alone. He stumbled over uneven terrain, grasping onto nearby branches for balance and stability. The forest around him was dark and cold but he was numb to it all. The trees cleared and black robed figures greeted him. He sort out the red eyes that would bring an end to it all. A wand raised before him and his stomach lurched suddenly. He didn't want to die. He'd never known peace. He didn't want to die without being at peace. The green light filled his vision and Harry gasped, waking up in his bed, sweating and clammy.

He panted, eyes flitting around the room as they adjusted to the dark. As his breaths evened, the damp sheets made him shiver violently with cold. He felt around for his glasses and, once on, peered through the darkness to check the time.

3.14. Harry sighed, knowing he was unlikely to re-enter any meaningful sleep that night. He would have to make do with the meagre four hours of sleep he had managed thus far.

Still somewhat disorientated, Harry cast a lumos around the room and rose onto shaky legs so he could search out a jumper. Locating his latest Weasley family jumper, he pulled it on over his pyjama top and grabbed Hermione's loaned Arithmancy text book from his desk.

He read in bed, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders to warm his still trembling body. Peering closely at the words of his book, he tried, with little success, to push down the feelings of dread that had settled within his body.

In the early stages of dawn with a fear of death and disaster which still clung to him, Harry put his book down and rubbed at his tired eyes, sore and dry from their lack of rest. He fetched casual clothes from his dresser and quickly threw them on. Attired in some old jogging bottoms, a t-shirt and zipped hoodie, Harry retrieved his invisibility cloak from his trunk and flung it around his shoulders as he left the 8th Year rooms.

For two hours he exhausted himself in the Room of Requirement, much as he had every day of this week. Leaving his wand by the door with his cloak, Harry practiced wandless non-verbal spells, allowing instinct to take over as he fought the dueling dummy. The room was designed to challenge him. The dummy could never be beaten; he would never win.

The routine he was in was beginning to take a toll on him and it was becoming noticeable. When he returned to the 8th Year dorms, Hermione and Ron were ready and preparing to go to breakfast. They looked relieved when he came in, but it quickly turned to concern as they took in his appearance.

"There you are." Ron said by way of greeting. "Where've you been?"

"Couldn't sleep." Harry said honestly.

Neither of his friends called him on the obvious non-answer and instead chivied him off to get his uniform on so they could head down to breakfast together.

Despite his morning activities, they were still among the first pupils in the Great Hall and the Gryffindor table was relatively empty.

"Harry, what's going on?" Hermione said quietly, clocking the small portion of breakfast he had selected. "You look awful."

"Told you, I couldn't sleep."

"It can't have been just tonight, you're exhausted."

Harry rubbed his eyes, too tired to argue that he wasn't. "Yeah."

"You can talk to us." Hermione persisted.

"There's nothing I can tell you that you don't already know." Harry sighed. It was half true; his nightmares at least contained nothing with which his friends were not already intimately acquainted with. They were there for half of it.

"Yeah, right." Harry hadn't thought it would be Ron that called him on his lie.

Hermione picked up the baton, "I'm worried about you."

"Hermione – "

"Don't tell me you're fine." She interrupted. "You're not fine."

Harry didn't bother to argue.

"You don't sleep, you barely eat, you're wearing yourself out. I'm not having a go, you're doing better than anyone could've expected, and God knows I can't talk. But, Harry, you can't go on like this, you need to get help."

Harry didn't have anything to say to that and eventually Hermione got up to speak to Professor Vector about her Arithmancy project. The Great Hall was starting to fill up by this point and the noise levels were rising which meant that no one overheard Ron's quiet questioning.

"Nightmares, was it?" Harry nodded stiffly. "The old stuff or… new stuff?"

After six years of bunking with the Boy-Who-Lived, Ron was all too familiar with his best friends' nightmares, gleaning their contents from Harry's nocturnal mutterings.

"Bit of both." Harry admitted.

Ron nodded understandingly. "I reckon she's probably right, you know?"

"When isn't she?" They both chuckled.

"Not that he isn't a complete tosser most of the time, but maybe you should talk to Snape about, you know, stuff from last year." Harry took note of the rare tone of seriousness from his usually jovial housemate.

"Maybe."

"Just think about it, alright? You said you trust him, yeah?"

"I do…" Harry said with only slight hesitation.

"Well, you don't have to tell him everything." Ron said reasonably. "Just start with some of the shit from last year."

Harry sipped some pumpkin juice and pushed away his barely touched breakfast. Maybe if he'd had more sleep he would have had greater resistance against Ron's rational arguments. As it was, he didn't have much resistance left in him, his head was heavy and his magic felt unstable. Maybe Ron was right. Maybe he was just seriously fucking tired.

Potter sighed as he took a sip of the steaming Moroccan mint tea, wrapping cold fingers around the warm mug. Severus scrutinized the young man's appearance, noting the dark circles and bloodshot eyes. He looked horrendous.

Severus sipped his own tea as Harry began to speak, "I think I better tell you about what we did last year."

The Professor looked up quickly from his mug, surprised. The young Gryffindor was looking down into his lap and Severus wondered what had prompted his willingness to talk.

"I'm listening."

Harry took a deep breath and placed his tea gently back onto the table. "I guess it starts with Bill and Fleur's wedding. Well, no actually, maybe I should start before that. From, from the night Dumbledore died." Harry whispered.

Severus felt his stomach lurch. He nodded sharply, unable to speak.

"He'd told me, before, about the Prophecy and what we'd have to do to defeat Voldemort. See Voldemort had made horcruxes. I'm guessing you already know what they are and how they're made?"

"I do." Severus said simply, not feeling any better.

"Well, Voldemort made seven."

"Seven!?" Severus nearly choked on his tongue.

"Right." Harry confirmed, continuing with his story. "So the night the Death Eaters got in, me and Dumbledore were looking for one of the horcruxes."

"He took you with him?"

"I think by that point he'd worked out that keeping me out of the loop didn't really work out most of the time."

"Did you find one? A horcrux."

"Er, well no, not really. We thought we had."

"Explain," Severus said shortly, still reigning in his emotions, dampening the guilt of murdering his one and only mentor.

"Someone had already stolen it from Voldemort. We didn't know who at the time though." Harry explained. "Anyway, after that night, I knew what I had to do and I knew I couldn't do it from Hogwarts."

"You went Horcrux hunting." Snape surmised. "How did you know where to start?"

Harry grimaced. "Well, we didn't really. I'd hoped to have a bit more planning time but the Ministry fell and we had to go into hiding when we became 'Undesirable One, Two and Three'."

"Where did you go?"

"Grimmauld Place."

Severus frowned. "That was rather risky, considering."

Harry chuffed out a breath. "Yeah, we thought so too, but then we didn't have a great deal of options. Bloody good thing we did and all, 'cause that's where we found out who had taken Voldemort's horcrux."

"Oh?"

"Regulus Black."

"Regulus Black." Severus murmured. "Merlin, that explains some things. How did he even find out?"

"Voldemort used Kreacher to hide the locket – that's what the horcrux was – Slytherin's locket. Anyway, once again, Voldemort failed to account for other people's emotions. Kreacher was loyal to the master that was kind to him and Regulus cared for the elf he'd known since he was born."

"So, who had the locket?"

"Well, Kreacher had been holding onto it. – Which kind of explains a lot about that elf now I think about it." Harry said as an aside. "But it turned out Mundungus had been nicking stuff from the house."

"So Mundungus had the horcrux?" Said Severus, rather horrified at the thought of such an evil artifact in the hands of such a moron.

"He did have, but he flogged it."

"To who?" Severus watched the boy's face darken as he spat out the name.

"Umbridge." Harry's hand twitched where the old scar remained.

"How on earth did you get it from her?"

A semi-guilty, semi-mischievious look came over the Gryffindor. "We, er, broke into the Ministry."

Severus stared at him for a good five seconds. Without saying a word the professor reached into the desk drawer on his right and fished out a small phial of calming draught which he consumed in one swig.

"Continue." Severus waved him on. "We did plan it." Harry said in justification. "And it went…okay. We got the locket anyway and didn't die so I'd count it as a success. Plus, we got to screw the toad over which was win-win." Harry's right hand rubbed his left unconsciously.

Severus clocked the action again. "Is your hand bothering you?"

"What? Uh," He looked down and realised what he was doing. "No, just remembering."

"You're still rather aggravated by her." The professor noted.

"She made my whole year hell." Potter said sourly. She sent Dementors to my house, tried to get me expelled, made everyone think I was some crackpot troublemaker, permanently scarred me and tried to torture me!"

Harry took a breath, realizing how irate he had become. He glanced up to gauge the professor's reaction, aware that he had shown more emotion than he'd intended.

"May I see your hand." Snape asked calmly.

Harry stretched his arm across the desk between them and the older wizard took it in surprisingly warm hands. Harry waited while Snape inspected his hand closely but the man said nothing.

"I have real problem with being called a liar." Harry said instead.

"Yes, I can see why you might." Severus said quietly, eyes still trained on the sharp, white etchings on Potter's skin.

At last Harry's hand was returned to him. "I'm sorry, Harry. I – we, the teachers of this school, failed you. We discovered what she was doing of course, but I had no idea of the extent. To have caused this much damage, you must have been in a great deal of pain and distress. I had not realised how long or how consistently she was punishing you with such methods."

Harry shrugged and tried to force his anger for that woman back into the tiny compartmentalized bottle it was assigned to in his brain. The past was done; there was little point lamenting it now.

Severus saw the shift in the boy's demeanor. Where Harry had appeared open and trusting, he now sat rigid and defensive. The former anger was replaced by an eerie calm that brought no peace to himself of those around him. There would be little point continuing now, and Severus noted that it was getting towards curfew.

"We seem to have gone a little off topic." He said to his student gently. "Perhaps you wouldn't mind continuing your tale another time."

"Yeah, sure." Harry rose to his feet, looking as exhausted as he had when he came in, if not more so.

"Do try and get some rest, Harry."

The boy nodded with little intent. "Night, Sir." He sighed and then slipped out the door.